She Could Be Great
by NazarusRiddle27
Summary: Avice lives a life of servant-hood under her malicious mistress, Lady Rohesia. One stormy night, Avice is set out to complete her mistress's chores when she meets the Goddess Hecate.
Will Brown

She Could Be Great

The wind wuthered and wailed through the tops of the trees, sending icy rain and loose foliage crashing through the forest. The night was darker than the blackest cat and Avice's feeble lantern did nothing to light the uneven ground beneath her feet. She drew her thin cloak around her trembling body, doing her best not to stumble into a tree in the impenetrable dark.

Often her mistress, Lady Rohesia, sent her out on these dreary nights on trivial chores. Tonight, it was to fetch her some water from the stream; apparently her Lady needed it to soak her feet. She claimed that only water from the stream in the wood would cure her feet of the various bunions and warts that pained her Lady so. Avice liked to think that Lady Rohesia sent her on these tasks because she actually needed the items and couldn't do without them 'til morning. The servant girl knew it was actually because ever since she was a small girl, her Lady had despised Avice's presence, and these arbitrary chores were just an excuse to get Avice out of Lady Rohesia's sight.

A wolf howled in the distance and Avice jumped, dropping and shattering her lantern. She withheld her curses as she knelt and blindly felt around for the broken light. She was desperate; without that light she would never find her way back and she would have to face the night in the dark, with all the loathsome creatures of the forest. Worse, if Avice didn't get the water for her Lady, she would be severely punished when she returned.

The wind only intensified, making the howls of the wolf echo through the trees, as if there was a whole pack of them instead of just one. Avice, trembling, scrambled to her feet and stumbled away, trying to swallow her fear. The leaves rattled. Wind whistled wildly. A branch snapped behind her and she flinched, whirling round to try to see if there was anyone near, but the darkness was too thick. Avice wrung her dress between her hands, hoping to God that no wolf would get her tonight.

Again, a wolf howled. She heard footsteps and Avice couldn't take the fear anymore.

She ran.

Gathering up her skirts she tore through the wood, ignoring scraping branches, cutting rocks and the frigid rain. She didn't know where she was. She didn't know how she would get home. She didn't…

Light.

Avice stumbled to a stop and shielded her eyes. Before her was a light as bright as the sun; warm, and inviting, pushing away the icy chill that had spread down her spine. She blinked the spots out of her eyes and had to refrain from gasping. Slowly emerging from the blinding luminosity of the forest was a tall, radiant woman wearing thin flowing, gently swaying robes; a peaceful contrast to the storm around her. The woman's face came into view and she looked so kind, so serene, so lovely, with that smile that told Avice that the problems currently facing her would be resolved. The lady opened her mouth and when she spoke her voice washed over Avice like the baptismal waters at her Church, telling her that she belonged right beside this lady.

"Hello child," the woman said. Avice had to resist the urge to kneel before her; she settled for a small curtsey.

"H-hello milady," Avice stuttered. The woman smiled softly down at her. Avice lifted her head and met the woman's eyes, noticing just how inhumanly golden they were, like dandelions upon a heath.

"I am Hecate," she said, "The Goddess of Magic." The lady paused and Avice wished with all her heart that she would continue; her voice was like an antidote to all her problems. Hecate began taking slow measured steps around Avice, inspecting her like a prize. "Recently, the High Priestess of my coven decided to betray me and leave me helplessly out-matched against those who oppose my power. I've decided I need to strengthen my numbers and you seem as worthy a candidate as any to be her replacement."

Avice gasped. "M-Milady?" she breathed.

"I could give you the power to stop death. To topple the mountains in this valley. To sway the seas. And most importantly to you, the power to escape this servile existence you lead," Hecate said. She halted her inspection and stood in front of Avice, tilting her head.

Thoughts whirled around Avice's head faster than a galloping horse. The Church had warned her of the vices of witchcraft - that it was the Devil's work - but it didn't take long for Hecate's offer to sway her resolve. All her life Avice had longed for something more tangible than the promise of a better afterlife. The constant lessons - first her mother, then Lady Rohesia - that she should be kind and humble and do the Lord's work had never seemed reasonable. Why should Avice work for some invisible being that had put her in the dastardly life of a servant? Here was the Goddess Hecate standing before her offering the power to leave the everyday drudgery of a servant behind. She could rise above Lady Rohesia by the side of the Goddess, with such power that she would be revered all over Scotland. She could be great.

"Well?" Hecate asked softly, "How do you view my proposal?  
"I accept, milady," Avice replied, curtseying again. The decision may have been hasty but how could a Goddess be wrong? Hecate smiled that wonderful smile again. She walked forward and placed a gentle hand on the side of Avice's face, sending waves of joy through her. Avice would be by the side of her new mistress happily.

"Splendid," the goddess said simply. A large _snap_ resounded through the air like the peal of thunder and Avice gasped, falling to her knees and reaching out to grasp the skirts of her new ethereal mistress. She felt like her very being was being pulled from her body; the only anchor to reality was the thin fabric she clung to. Avice slowly drifted into unconsciousness.

Being the High Priestess was not all that Avice had hoped it would be. The Goddess rarely appeared to her and the other witches who now served under Avice; instead Hecate issued orders through the mind. The commands did not bring the glory Avice wanted. She felt like a cruel and wicked mistress of the world as she soared above, inflicting vengeance upon those that the coven deemed deserving.

Two other High Priestesses guided her in her work and they were the ones who often took the lead in choosing the targets upon which they worked their magic. Sometimes they were people whom Avice took to be kind and altruistic in their deeds, but if Hecate gave the command, they would be tortured beyond what the human mind could bear with calamities of plagues and visions. Avice worked up her power and soon she could, as Hecate had promised, sway the seas, topple the mountains and eventually, even put a stop to death.

These acts, although giving her great and powerful magic, did not bring Avice the happiness that she thought she would have once she had given her life to Hecate. The torment she inflicted upon man haunted her through her days and kept her awake through the nights. On that fateful night, now years ago, she had dreamed of spending her days by the side of her Lady, performing extravagant feats of magic and wonder that would make all who beheld her sorcery exalt her with words of praise. Instead, she served a cruel and wicked mistress and anyone still alive who had witnessed her witchcraft quivered in terror at her feet.

Avice had tried to escape. She had tried to fly to the ends of the Earth but the coven always managed to find her, always brought her back to the terrible world of jinxes and prophecy. She was bound to Hecate for eternity. There was no escape. Avice had dared to rise to the power of a Goddess and this was her punishment for attempting to rise above mortal men.

Eventually, Avice gave up all hope of finding a way out of the coven, instead embracing her power. She had a newfound malice that encouraged her to continue her acts of sin. Instead of dreading the next time she would damn a soul, she would wait in eager anticipation and savour the screams of her victims.

One day, after many years of servitude to her Lady, when her skin had wrinkled with warts and her voice creaked like an old staircase, Avice heard of the young Thane of Glamis who had won the King's favour. She watched Macbeth in battle and watched him talk with his wife of his dreams of greatness while she encouraged and praised. He had too much ambition for his own good.

Avice discussed this with her two high priestesses; they too agreed that something needed to be done about the Thane and his pretension.

So after one bloody battle against the Thane of Cawdor, the three Weird Sisters gathered their other-worldly powers of enchantment and descended to meet Macbeth upon the heath.


End file.
